


Pistol Whipped

by ShadowThorne



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 04:58:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowThorne/pseuds/ShadowThorne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grimmjow and Shirosaki have always loved a good fight; blood rushing through their veins and quickening their hearts. It made them feel alive, made them feel strong and in control. Why should being together change that? -Short little oneshot. smut. GrimmShiro and a mildly unhealthy relationship. Inspired by Marilyn Manson's song Pistol Whipped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pistol Whipped

**Author's Note:**

> BEFORE YOU GO ANY FURTHER, PLEASE NOTE THAT I DO NOT CONDONE ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIPS OR DOMESTIC VIOLENCE OF ANY KIND. That being said, there is absolutely nothing wrong with rough, angry sex so long as all parties are willing and ready :D
> 
> Now then, this story was sort of inadvertently prompted and is largely inspired by Marilyn Manson's song, Pistol Whipped. (Good song, go listen!) It's all smut and it's the shortest thing I've written in like a year, but I pretty much wrote it in one sitting and I had fun doing it~  
> So enjoy!

 

**You look so pretty**   
**when you cry.**   
**Don't wanna hit you**   
**but the only thing,**   
**between our love is**   
**a bloody nose**   
**a busted lip**   
**and**   
**a blackened eye**

**You're a little pistol**   
**and I'm fucking pistol whipped**   
**You're a little pistol**   
**and I'm fucking pistol whipped**   
**(cock, cock, cock it)**

 

“God dammit. You gotta be fucking kidding me!” The deep voice resounded through the small space, bouncing from the walls and traveling down the narrow hall.  
  
They fought all the time, about anything and everything. Sometimes they didn’t even know why they were fighting but they were always at each other’s throats for some reason or another. They fought, they screamed, they argued and snarled and cursed. Sometimes things got violent, sometimes they got physical. But both were grown men, both could handle it.  
  
Whether or not it was right for them to stay together never crossed their minds, despite that it seemed they hated each other most of the time. Those around them, their neighbors, the people they passed by on the street or in the market, gave sideways, astonished stares when they ripped into each other like fighting dogs, all bared teeth and raised hackles. It got so bad sometimes, especially while they were alone in their apartment, that the good little christian couple with their four kids and rescued family pet across the hall had called the cops once.  
  
It had been an interesting experience, to say the least. What were the hapless officers to arrive on the scene of a domestic violence dispute to do with the two grown men they’d found to be in the apartment? The couple from across the hall, the ones that had called the police, had been standing in their doorway, worried expressions on their faces and crosses in hand. The sounds coming from the locked apartment had certainly sounded violent enough and when no one answered the heavy pounding on their front door, the officers let themselves in. But what they came across hadn’t been what they were expecting to find. So what were they supposed to do when the heated argument between a young couple, quickly becoming violent and abusive, that they had been called to break up, ended up being not a fight, but very rough and dirty sex between two young men on the sitting room floor? Shocked, they could only stare as black nails clawed at tan flesh, drawing blood to the surface and white teeth returned the favor on an equally pale throat.  
  
“No, do I look like I’m shittin’ ya?” The other snarled, his hands fisted so tightly at his sides that had his skin not already been so colorless, his knuckles would have been white. He wasn’t even entirely sure what he’d said to set his volatile partner off this time, but it hardly mattered. This was inevitable. They’d made it nearly three days without some type of confrontation. New record. “Are ya stupid er somethin’? Ya wan’ me ta spell it out fer ya?”  
  
Full lips curled into a fearsome snarl that could have rivaled any dog fighter’s champion pit. Teeth damn near as sharp showed through, white and so perfect they should have been on commercials. Grimmjow was a big man, had been since he filled out during high school. At over six feet tall and built like a brick shit house, he could surely produce a menacing aura. His riotous blue hair drew people’s attention, but his manic, slightly crazed cyan eyes made them keep their distance, like a warning without a sound.  
  
But Shirosaki had never feared that awe inspiring gaze, nor the angered rumble that often accompanied it when the beast of a man was unhappy. Not when they’d first met during high school, not during their first fight in the middle of the gym that sent them both to the hospital and earned them suspensions. Not during their first heated argument as a couple, not during their first bout of angry sex and surely not now.  
  
He stood shorter than his partner by several inches and weighed in at over thirty pounds lighter but that didn’t stop the odd looking young man. Shiro was all long, lean muscle compared to Grimmjow’s bulk. He was wiry and lithe, toned, whereas his larger partner may as well have been carved from stone. In the same way that Grimmjow’s wild good looks and even less tamable hair acted as a flag for the attention of those around them, Shiro’s pale complexion, caused by a genetic anomaly similar to albinism but not quite, drew curiosity. But just like the bigger man’s chaotic gaze, Shirosaki’s eyes drove fear into the heart of many. They matched every ounce of the manic, crazed glint that Grimmjow’s cold orbs held, but the colors were reversed. Black where they should have been white, his irises were a burning gold like the fires of a burning building.  
  
The two were perfect for each other in a way those around them would never be able to understand. Both were fearless and so couldn’t be intimidated by the other like most of the people around them, like normal, sane people. Both had a temper to rival a caged beast, ready to attack and devour just as soon as be civil. They were like ammonia and bleach, powerful and potentially dangerous but relatively manageable chemicals when on their own, but combined they were like mustard gas, explosive and deadly. They were warriors and they loved to fight.  
  
Grimmjow’s hand shot out as a snarl fell from his parted lips. Long fingers wrapped around a pale throat and pushed the smaller against the closed front door with enough force to make the sturdy wood shutter in it’s frame. A barely there grunt escaped Shirosaki as air was pushed from his lungs. His long hair framing his fair features, his own lip curled into a warning and angered expression, his gold on black eyes glinting hard and near murderous in the lighting of their home.  
  
“You wanna say that again?” Grimmjow dared the other in a low, shiver worthy growl.  
  
White hands braced against Grimmjow’s much thicker wrist but didn’t attempt to pull his hand from the pale man’s throat just yet. Grimmjow raised his other hand and despite that it wasn’t clenched into a fist, he felt Shiro flinch and stiffen minutely below his hold. Some of the crazed anger in his blue orbs softened as he used his free hand to brush feathery locks away from his partner’s face, revealing what was left of the healing bruise from their last fight.  
  
The hand wrapped around his throat loosened, traveled upward to almost gently cup his jaw. The pad of Grimmjow’s thumb softly traced his bottom lip and Shirosaki watched as the bigger man took in his features in an almost loving way. It was moments like this that both men wondered why they were so cruel to each other, why they fought and snarled and directed their anger and aggression at one another. There was something strong between them. Love? Maybe, maybe not, but strong all the same.  
  
“So beautiful.” Grimmjow’s voice was rough and quiet, an underlying huskiness to it. His hand traveled up further still, thumb resting over the sharp point of Shiro’s cheek bone, right where the worst of the fading bruise still remained, dark and purple against his alabaster skin. His gentle, soothing motions as he swiped his thumb along the bruise drew a wince from the smaller pale he pinned against the door.  
  
But those almost loving moments never lasted long, lost in their mutual haze and need for dominance and a good fight.  
  
Grimmjow’s thumb pressed harder on the tender flesh below his hand. A pained breath hissed between pale lips as the sharp flash of fire made Shiro’s defiant eyes water. Both men seemed to pause, their gazes locked and heated. Before Grimmjow could react, Shiro’s palm connected with his inner elbow, forcing his arm to bend while the pale man surged forward, loosened fingers still wrapped around his throat. He pounced upon the larger man, using his weight to force Grimmjow back and down. Grimmjow thudded to the carpeted floor, Shiro landing to straddle his midsection and white lips peeled back in a fearsome and familiar expression.  
  
They were already breathing in harsh pants, adrenaline circulating through their systems from their argument, as Shirosaki forced the bigger man’s hands above his head, pinning his arms up and to the floor beside his head. A manic smirk slashed across angular, tanned features a split second before Grimmjow planted his feet and bucked his hips, throwing the smaller man off balance. He ripped his arms free of pale hands, quickly turning the tides of their small battle. A big hand fisted in long white hair as Grimmjow used his strength and larger size to throw the smaller male from him. With his other hand upon Shiro’s hip, he guided where he landed and before either could blink had managed to reverse their positions, pinning Shiro the floor with his weight.  
  
The smaller male’s snarl turned into a sharp gasp, edging on aroused, as the hand fisted in his hair pulled harder, forcing him to bare his throat and arch his back away from the ground. Still straddling him, Grimmjow ground himself downward, pulling a deeper sound from his lover. Leaning forward, he locked Shiro into a rough, nipping kiss full of teeth and tongue. His free hand, the one not fisted in Shiro’s hair, worked it’s way upward from the slim man’s hip, brushing along the heated, smooth skin under the near-albino’s shirt.  
  
Shiro’s black nailed fingers snagged in the back of Grimmjow’s button-up shirt, scraping against the rigid muscle below. He let out a quiet but intimidating growl as Grimmjow’s teeth nipped at his bottom lip, seeking and demanding entrance. Opening up, Shiro let the bigger man’s invading tongue tangle with his own, the kiss growing even more heated in their fervor. With another snarl, Shiro’s teeth sank into the bigger man’s warm tongue with enough aggression to draw blood.  
  
Grimmjow grunted, ignoring that it had an almost keening quality to it, and pulled his hand from inside the other man’s shirt. Grasping the hem, he pulled away from Shiro, breaking their kiss as a small amount of saliva diluted blood trickled in a thin string down his chin, and began yanking the shirt up Shiro’s lithe torso with jerking, none to gentle motions. Forced to released the other’s hair, he let Shiro sit up just enough to pull the article of clothing in his way over the man’s head. Shirt discarded and thrown to the side, he shoved the near-albino back to the floor, taking full advantage of Shiro’s moment of stunned stillness as the back of his head thudded against the floor.  
  
The colorless man blinked a few times, wincing at the dull pain in his skull, before his hands were busy tearing at Grimmjow’s clothing. The buttons on the bigger man’s black dress shirt scattered across the floor as a tanned, muscled chest was revealed. Shiro ran pale hands down the tempting flesh hovering above him, his nails leaving faint red trails behind, until his fingers danced along the man’s trim waist line, finding the cold metal of his belt buckle. His breath caught in his throat at the possibilities.  
  
Grimmjow caught the small sound and a devilish grin pulled his lips up into a wide arc. He retracted his hands from the smaller man’s body, reached down to begin pulling the end of the belt through the buckle and slowly, teasingly pulling it from his belt loops. All the while, his intense blue eyes held fiery gold with a painfully pleasing promise.  
  
Belt pulled free, Grimmjow allowed the colorless male to unbutton his pants and tug them down over his hips to pool around his knees. He stood and quickly kicked out of the loose article of clothing, tugging his boxers off with the pants, and went to work on Shiro’s pants. The faint sound of tearing seams was hardly noticed by the two fervent men as bruised lips came together with heated, unmatched passion, an equal amount of testosterone fueled aggression mixed in.  
  
Shiro’s lean arms wrapped around the back of the bigger man’s neck and shoulders, his black nails biting into the smooth flesh as Shiro arched his body into the heat-radiating, solid one above him. Grimmjow’s hard member pressed down against his own freshly divested length, forcing a shutter to wrack the smaller man’s frame. His fingers curled all the tighter, drawing thin, welted lines where they scraped and clawed at Grimmjow’s muscled shoulders. Grimmjow growled in return, low in his throat, and the sound was eagerly swallowed by his partner.  
  
Reaching blindly, the blue haired man grasped hold of his previously discarded belt, his smirk returning and creasing his features. He bit down on Shiro’s lip and tugged before he sat up and wrapped his big hand back around the man’s lean throat.  
  
He pressed down, leaning just enough of his weight against the other so that Shiro’s hands wrapped around his wrist and the air shuddered in and out of his lungs in labored breaths. A grin full of sinful anticipation stole across porcelain features, however, and they both knew what was to come. The defiant, unbreakable look in Shirosaki’s startling eyes dared Grimmjow. They dared the bigger man to take what he wanted. Not a word needed to be spoken, not that Shiro would have been able to with the bigger man’s hand wrapped so tightly around his throat.  
  
Grimmjow rose to the challenge. He released Shiro’s quickly bruising neck and grabbed his slim hips in an even heavier grip. Using his new hold and his size advantage, he forced the other onto his stomach before he snagged hold of ashen locks once more. Pulling up, he forced the man’s head backward, chest down so that the lean, pale lines of muscle in Shirosaki’s back pulled taut in a delicious curve, lifting his ass and giving Grimmjow a perfect view.  
  
Shiro’s angered, snarling hiss came out a little breathier than he’d meant it to as his colorless brows furrowed yet rose all at once and the livid gold of his irises seemed to darken. His lilting voice rose in a startled yelp, shattering the relative silence of their home and drowning out the sharp snap of the belt Grimmjow held in his free hand. He held his breath in a pain he couldn’t get enough of as the cooler air burned against the fresh, bright red welt marring his colorless backside.  
  
Another crack of the belt had his hands clawing at the carpet as something less surprised and more pleading left his throat, vaguely resembling Grimmjow’s name. Sharp, stinging pain raced up his spine, making his eyes water as he squeezed them shut.  
  
As a single tear streaked his fair features, Grimmjow leaned forward, melding his upper half to the smaller’s back. He brought his face close to Shiro’s, his lips close enough to brush softly over Shiro’s ear. Reaching around the man, Grimmjow wrapped the belt around Shiro’s throat before he released his hair. His hot tongue traced the curve of Shiro’s ear as a sinful chuckle made the near-albino shiver below him.  
  
“You’re so pretty when you cry...” Grimmjow rumbled, his voice thick and grating despite it’s low tone.  
  
“F-fuck... you...” The last word was nearly squeaked out as Grimmjow pulled back on the belt, a wide grin on his full, pink lips. His hard cock rubbed against the seam of Shiro’s exposed and raised cheeks. The brilliant, red welts that marred the rounded flesh were hot against his member and burned to the touch for both men. Shiro bared his teeth, eyes scrunching closed once more as he shifted, grinding backward across the front of his bigger lover’s hips.  
  
Grimmjow groaned a low, rough sound that vibrated in the small space between his lips and Shiro’s ear. Still holding tight to the belt looped around Shiro’s neck, his other hand glided down pale, heated flesh in feather light touches; brushing down the near-albino’s spine, feeling the prominent point of his hips, tracing the curve of his butt. Shiro shuddered below him, a breathy curse escaping his restricted airway.  
  
A handprint was added to the twin red stripes across Shiro’s cheeks and the pale man’s jaw fell open, upper lip curled back, but only a strained exhale left his frozen lungs. His cock throbbed between his legs, precome already dripping to wet the carpet below him. The muscle of his legs quivered like they’d give out on him had he not already been mostly on the ground and his hands fisted against the floor. “S-s’at all ya got?” He asked with a harsh lilt.  
  
“Hnn.” Grimmjow’s amused sound was the only warning given as two, un-lubed fingers thrust passed the tight ring of Shiro’s entrance.  
  
Shiro nearly screamed, the distorted cry muffled by the carpet he pressed his own face into. He choked out a sound somewhere between agony and bliss as Grimmjow’s fingers were pulled back only to thrust forward with a nearly painful speed and force. A few more thrusts and he was keening a curse as the tips of Grimmjow’s fingers found his prostate. “Ahh-fuck! Grimmmnnn-”  
  
Grimmjow leaned forward again, sinking his teeth into his partner’s shoulder blade. The tangy taste of blood filled his mouth as he pulled his fingers from Shiro’s entrance. The whimper that fled pale lips had his cock twitching as he lined up. He gripped Shiro’s hips with one hand and used his other to push the near-albino’s face back against the carpet as he thrust forward, seating himself deep in a single, swift motion.  
  
Teeth grit and jaw clamped tight, Shiro’s breaths puffed out against the floor in short pants through flared nostrils as the blue haired man’s heavy cock filled him. Heat flooded his body, the fresh bruising from their short scuffle throbbing in time with his erratic heart beat. As the intense pain began subsiding, leaving only the ache he felt in his pelvis, Grimmjow drew back in a slow, torturous motion, pulling more lilting, pleasured sounds from his throat. The belt still rested there, but it was no longer pulled tight as Grimmjow abandoned it in favor of anchoring in his long hair again.  
  
Grimmjow drew back until he nearly pulled free of his lover’s tight, heated embrace. Pausing, he dragged that small moment of anticipation out before pistoning his hips forward, quickly finding a brutal pace. Grunting and snarling his pleasure, he pounded into the smaller male below him with enough force to push Shiro across the carpet, leaving rug burns along pale knees.  
  
“Grimmjow-!” Shirosaki’s voice rose as the man’s cock prodded at all his most sensitive spots. Coherent thought flew out the window, their previous fight lost on both men as they were consumed by heat, lust and pleasure. Animal rage was translated into need, into desire. Violent, angry words became overwhelmed, euphoric cries and bodies flushed from arousal rather than from heavy hands.  
  
It was in moments like this that they realized why they stayed together, despite all the fights, all the violence. Perhaps they were too blood thirsty, too battle crazed, too much alike, but there was that something between them, something strong.  
  
The hand fisted in Shiro’s white hair loosened before Grimmjow wrapped that arm around the slim man, almost lovingly wrapping his fingers around the smaller man’s aching, straining erection. Shiro’s body shuddered with intense pleasure below him, his voice catching in his throat as Grimmjow twisted his wrist and slowly stroked up. His thumb pressed against the weeping tip of his partner’s pale member. Shiro’s passage tightened around his cock, pulsing almost in time with the slow, contradictory motions of his stroking hand.  
  
The near-albino’s cries no longer carried words, reduced to gasping and moaning and writhing under Grimmjow’s ministrations. Hovering above him, Grimmjow bared his teeth in drowning pleasure, his vivid blue eyes sliding closed as he rested his forehead between pale shoulder blades. His swift, brutal thrusting never slowed, never paused as he spoke in a quiet, strained voice.  
  
“Fuck...Shirooo-” He moaned out, tight walls hugging his cock. His rumbling voice drew another pleasured sound from his lover. “You know... I do love you...”  
  
Every muscle in the smaller man’s body went rigid. Shiro gasped a sharp, pleasure fueled breath as his release coated Grimmjow’s hand and the crest of his pleasure wracked through his body, so intense tears welled behind his closed eyes. His lilting cry echoed down the hall and his euphoria left him trembling.  
  
Behind him, Grimmjow threw his head back, baring his throat as a moan so sinful it could have been made by the devil himself escaped. The heat he thrust into clamped down, pulling his release from him. He spilled himself inside Shiro, hips flush with Shiro’s bottom and buried deep. Another, smaller moan fell from parted, pale lips as Shiro collapsed the rest of the way to the floor under him.  
  
Panting and sated, his earlier anger drained like the sticky strands of his seed, Grimmjow followed him to the floor. The only sign of life the pale man gave was the quickened rise and fall of his chest as he turned his head to face his partner. Gold on black eyes slit open, still hazy and clouded but much lighter than before, much less furious.  
  
Grimmjow slowly raised his hand toward his colorless lover’s face. This time, his movements didn’t bring about the instinctive finch from the smaller man. A smile spread angular features as Grimmjow brushed his thumb against the same bruise he’d previously abused, but this time there was no cruel pressure behind his touch, only a tenderness that was rarely seen from the big man.  
  
Shiro blinked a few times, a small smirk twitching onto his pale lips as he tried to clear his still hazy, watery gaze. The action caused a few of his pleasure induced tears to streak free.  
  
Grimmjow brushed them away. “You’re so pretty when you cry.”

 

 

**When I undo my belt,**   
**you melt and you walk away**   
**with a red, red, red, red welt**   
**(or so they say)**   
**You're a little pistol**   
**and I'm fucking pistol whipped**   
**You're a little pistol**   
**and I'm fucking pistol whipped**   
**I wanna have your ache**   
**and beat you too**


End file.
